Ten Clichés
by Dayspring
Summary: Cliché--anything that has become trite or commonplace through overuse. There are reasons clichés are clichés. SLASH. H/D. MPREG.


**1. What a difference a year makes**

* * *

Draco Malfoy sat on the settee in front of Malfoy Manor's main fireplace and waited for the flames to turn green. Harry was due in a few minutes and...well, they had to talk. Talk. He had to talk to Harry Potter. A year ago he'd been scared to death when his father had informed him that Harry Potter had come over to talk to him. Although he'd been cleared of his Death Eater activities (even a house-elf could see he'd been coerced into the evil he'd done), Potter could still blame him for _something_, and he had the clout to back up whatever trumped up charges he invented. But Potter had only wanted to return the Elder Wand, which, unsurprisingly, Draco didn't ever want to see again. Potter had then said something about how quick judgments and hasty conclusions had dogged Snape until his dying day, that he himself was guilty of them, and he didn't want that on his conscience, so, hey, wanna go grab a pint? Draco had laughed and asked if Potter was asking him on a date. Potter had smiled wistfully and said he might've been if he wasn't dating Ginny Weasley. Draco told him if he ever changed his mind, he knew his Floo address. And that had been that.

Until Potter had shown up six weeks later. By then the elder Malfoys had hied off to France where nobody sneered at them (except for the usual French sneer which would have been rude only in its absence). Draco had stayed behind to take his NEWTS, which McGonagall was making available to anyone who thought he/she knew enough to pass them.

"Potter?" he'd asked the figure ridding itself of ash and soot.

"Malfoy," Potter had replied. Then the former Gryffindor (former, hell, he'd always be a Gryffindor--in or out of Hogwarts) had stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked awkwardly on his heels. "So, hey, wanna go grab a pint?" Draco had raised an eyebrow, and Potter had continued. "I broke it off with Ginny."

It had taken several pints to get the rest of the story. According to Potter, it had been the Weasley chit's list of the names for their future children that had metaphorically broken the camel's back. "I realized," Potter had slurred, "that even without a prophecy, I was leading a life of someone else's choosing. Ginny had made up that list in Second Year. Second Year, Draco! I couldn't--I can't live my life according to an orderly to-do list. Damn woman had probably written down what days we would shag, too!"

"Bet no one's written down when you should date me," Draco had hazarded, Slytherin-style.

"Well, then, it should be at the top on MY to-do list," Potter had declared.

They'd been dating since then, shagging on a whim instead of a schedule. Draco had aced his NEWTS and instead of joining his parents across the Channel, he'd stayed in England to date and find useful employment. Due to his excellent (but awful) repair of the Vanishing Cabinet, he'd been offered a position in the Office of Important Repairs--newly founded because so many things had been broken doing the War. Harry (yes, he was Harry now) was a junior Auror, on the fast track to the higher rankings. Weasley had had a conniption fit when he found out about the two of them, Granger had perfected the art of "grin and bear it," and the girl Weasley, a.k.a., the ex, had swooned about fatalistically until she fell into the arms of Longbottom.

And now there was...this. One year later and...

The fire hissed green. Harry stumbled out as he was wont to do, at first grinning, then frowning with concern. "You're still in your pajamas. What's wrong? Haven't relapsed, have you?"

A bad case of wizarding flu had knocked Draco on his arse more than a month ago. Draco shook his head and reached out his hand. "Come sit with me, Harry."

Harry inched towards him. "What's up, Malfoy?"

Malfoy. Harry was scared shitless. Months of togetherness had revealed "Potter" meant "idiot" and "Malfoy" meant "don't leave me, Draco." It had taken work to figure those out. "I'm not going anywhere, but we need to talk," Draco said clearly to get the fear out of the way.

"About?"

"When that Weasley chit showed you the names of your potential children, why did that freak you out? Was it because she had already named them or was it the children themselves?" Draco scratched at a pajama-clad knee. "Do you want children, Harry?"

Harry scrunched his face up in thought. "What is this about? Has Ginny said something to you? I know she can't be claiming to be pregnant by me. We didn't even-- I haven't seen her in ages. If she's told you otherwise--"

Draco placed a finger across Harry's mouth to shut him up. "Girl Weasley's not pregnant, Potter. I am."

* * *

**2. Truth is stranger than fiction**

* * *

"Huh?"

And this was the man he willingly shagged on a regular basis, Draco thought sadly. At least Potter hadn't asked who's the father. "You knew wizards could get pregnant, right?"

He nodded dumbly. "But I thought they had to take a potion. You didn't take a potion, did you?"

"No, I didn't _take_ a potion, Harry. You _gave_ me one."

"I--I what? I would never do that to you, to us, not without a lot of discussion and you whingeing about stretch marks and assorted--stuff--like that."

Draco sighed, understanding Harry's disbelief. He'd performed the Am-I-Pregnant spell a number of times himself before accepting "Yes, you idiot" as the answer. "Remember when you came home the last month talking about the case you had where a fellow tried to hex his mother in a mirror shop, and instead he hexed himself and everyone else in the store with a delayed Confundus charm?" Harry nodded. "According to The _Daily Prophet_, one of the patrons Confunded was Harold Knickerbocker."

"I remember that name. So?"

"When I got sick, I sent you out to get me a potion. Where did you buy it from?"

"The chemist around the corner from my flat, Knicker-- Oh."

"Oh," Draco agreed.

Harry scratched his head. "You always got Os in Potions. Couldn't you tell that something wasn't right?"

"I was flat on my arse, Potter! I couldn't smell. I couldn't taste. I had--stuff!--coming out of every orifice I have. How the--"

"Okay," Harry said quickly. "Do you want me to apologize or what?"

Or what. That was indeed the question. "How do you feel about this, Harry? We're barely twenty years old, and you've had your whole life dictated to you for so long..."

Harry laughed. "This isn't a dictation, Draco. This is--well, this is how life is supposed to be. Crazy, unpredictable--"

"Abnormal is the new normal, or something like that?" Draco guessed, relaxing a bit.

"Something like that." Harry leaned over until his head rested against Draco's. "You want to do this?"

There were ways to "not do it." But Draco wasn't interested in them. "Yeah, Harry. I want to do this."

"Then that's exactly what we'll do."

* * *

**3. Heart of gold**

* * *

They argued about who they should tell first--Draco's parents or Harry's friends. Or maybe the argument was about who they should tell last, because neither one of them was looking forward to the exercise.

"At least your friends know we're dating!" Draco shouted in frustration.

"Your parents don't know?" Harry asked, looking rather hurt.

Draco scrambled to put the best spin he could on the situation. "My family's not into discussing personal matters. Unless they necessitate lawyers and payoffs...or whatever," he stumbled to add.

"Why do they think you're in England, then?"

"Rebuilding the Malfoy name and all that rot. Employed by the Ministry, being trustworthy, et cetera, et cetera."

"Draco, honey," Harry said carefully, "do they know you're gay?"

"As a lifestyle or a hobby?" Draco hedged.

Harry sighed. "We'll tell my friends first."

"Yay!" Draco said.

"Then we'll Portkey to France and tell your parents face to face."

"Yay," Draco said again, with a lot less enthusiasm.

"You're pregnant?" Lucius drawled. "By Potter? Harry Potter?"

"Standing right here," Harry pointed out helpfully.

Lucius laughed and hugged his son. "Not the way I would've done it, but, bravo, son. Wait until I tell the gents at the Club. Spectacular!"

"This was an accident, Father!" Draco protested, in case Harry forgot his father was a lying, opportunistic bastard. "And it certainly wasn't a calculated one-off. Harry and I have been dating since just after you left. I lo--I have real feelings for him!"

"I don't need the details, son, tawdry though they might be. So are you going to make an honest man out of my son, Potter?"

"That's under discussion," Harry answered. "We just wanted to let our friends and family know our good news."

"And it is indeed good news," Lucius said jovially. "Cigars. I need to order cigars."

"Do you want to tell Mother when she gets back from Italy with her friends, or shall I fire talk to her?" Draco asked, the thought of cigars making him queasy.

"Oh, please, Draco, let me tell her. She'll be absolutely thrilled. And I'm sure she'll be owling you soon with all sorts of helpful tips."

Now his father was making him queasy. "Come on, Harry. Our return Portkey will be operating soon."

Harry nodded, then turned to Lucius. "You taught Draco some awful things when he was a child, and you should probably be in prison for most of it. But you also taught him about family and when it came to a choice, you chose your son over your poor taste in leaders. So, thank you, for teaching your son how to love at least what's his--as opposed to general love of the really good things in the world, which I'm working on, by the way. His somewhat tarnished heart is shining up quite nicely and I know that its pure gold center is due to the love you and his mother gave him. I promise you that I know its true worth, and I will treat it with the utmost care and respect and love."

Lucius stared back. "I will hold you to your promise, Potter."

"As well you should, Lucius. Good day."

"Good day, Potter."

"You know my father," Draco began as they moved toward the edge of the French estate.

"I know your father," Harry agreed. "I also know you. Anyone who doesn't kick me out of bed after I've eaten sauerkraut and bratwurst at the Burrow isn't just merely using me."

"_Acceptus frago_," Draco muttered.

"What?"

"_Acceptus frago_. Makes smells pleasant."

"Really?"

Draco nodded hesitantly.

"Think you could teach that to me when it's time to change nappies?"

Draco relaxed and took Harry's hand as the Portkey activated.

* * *

**4. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned**

* * *

"Don't think I don't know what you're up to, Malfoy," Ginerva Weasley said.

Draco rolled his eyes, wishing he'd stayed inside the Burrow where the engagement party for Granger and the Weasel was being held. But too many redheads and too much heat had driven him out for some fresh air. He'd hoped no one had noticed.

He really should've known better.

He turned around to confront the woman who had followed him. "I can honestly say, Miss Weasley, that I've never had any thoughts about you, one way or the other."

"Harry's mine."

"He disagrees. He's disagreed for nearly a year. Time to move on, little girl."

She turned red. "I could've done what you've done. Trapped him with a pregnancy."

"He would've had to fuck you first."

She slapped him. He caught her arm as she withdrew, debating if he should snap her wrist. Her wand wrist. Oh, it could be healed easily enough, but, damn, it would hurt. He huffed and released her, just like Harry would want him to. But he wasn't going to let her go without a warning. "Don't think for one second that just because I'm not in Azkaban, I'm not dangerous. Let Harry live his life as he sees fit, and I will happily go on ignoring you. Interfere, and I'll have you believing Voldemort was just the appetizer on a smorgasbord of horror."

"You don't scare me, Malfoy."

Draco absently rubbed his stomach. "Then you are infinitely more stupid than anyone should be."

"Draco?"

He turned and smiled at the arriving Harry. "Just getting a bit of air, love."

"Everything all right here?" Harry asked, glancing between the two of them.

Draco shrugged. "Weasley gave me her opinion, and I readily told her how much it didn't matter to me. Now, she's heading back inside, aren't you, dear child?"

"You're a pig, Malfoy!"

"Good thing Harry likes pork."

"Harry!" she screeched. "Whatever enchantment he has you under will soon wear off. I'll be waiting."

"Don't hold your breath," Harry said.

"Oh, please do," Draco added.

"You okay?" Harry asked as the Weasley girl flounced back into the house.

Draco grinned. "I'm feeling quite refreshed, actually. By the way, you have terrible tastes in women. Good thing you decided to be gay."

Harry laughed and threw his arm around Draco's shoulders. "Yeah, good thing that."

* * *

**5. They fight like an old married couple**

* * *

"So just tell me what you want, Potter! I can't read your mind without Legilimency, you know."

"I don't want to raise our child here!"

Draco took a deep breath. Okay. He understood that. The manor had to hold--unpleasant-- memories for Harry. That was why he never said anything when Harry wouldn't spend the night there. They only shagged at the flat. Which-- "The flat's too small. There's barely enough room for the two of us, much less a nursery. And there's no way in hell I'm raising a child without a house-elf, or two, around to help."

"Then we need to find somewhere else!"

"Well, that's what I asked you from the beginning, Harry! What do you want!"

"A house, all right! I want a fucking house! With you." The last was almost whispered.

"Oh. Well, why didn't you say so?"

Harry grabbed a handful of hair and tugged. "We're getting bonded, Draco. I thought that came with the territory."

"Weasley's moving into Granger's flat."

"Because it's just the two of them."

Draco sat down suddenly. "And there's going to be three of us."

Harry squatted down beside him. "Yeah, three of us."

"We're breeding before Weasley."

"We're going to be dads."

"Bloody hell." Draco leaned forward to rest his forehead against Harry's. "Nothing less than four bedrooms. And space in the attic for the house-elvess."

"Okay."

"We'll have the bonding ceremony there. So we need to find something soon, because once I start to show, I'm not going to be ogled by the public."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

* * *

**6. There's no place like home**

* * *

"It's quite spacious," Granger said diplomatically.

"It's bloody huge!" Weasley concluded loudly.

"We like it," Harry harped proudly. "And the manor is bloody huge, Ron. This is--this feels like home." Green eyes danced around the stately home. There were six bedrooms instead of four and an expansive garden--estate actually. Draco had fallen in love immediately. Harry had stood looking at the door for a moment, his magic doing something somewhere. Then he'd grinned and told the agent they'd take it.

"I'm happy for you, Harry, and Draco," Granger said. "Will you have the ceremony outside or in?"

"Outside. This weekend," Draco answered. "My mother has everything planned."

"Snooty," Weasley mumbled.

"Simple," Draco replied. "Harry hates fussy."

Weasley looked surprised.

Harry just hugged him tighter.

They'd compromised--suits under dress robes which would be discarded immediately after the ceremony. Narcissa hadn't been happy, but Draco had promised Harry "simple."

On the day of the bonding, Lucius had presented his entire British holdings to Draco. He said that although they weren't doing marriage vows, the whole "poorer" thing was never going to happen. He'd then left to go pick a fight with a Weasley, because that was the fun of visiting England.

"This is everything I've hoped for you, son," Narcissa had said.

"What? That I become knocked up and have to get married at wandpoint?" he'd teased.

She shook her head. "People get married at wandpoint, Draco. You're getting bonded. Never in the history of magic have two people bonded because of 'have to.' "

"Does that mean you actually listened in Binns' class?"

Narcissa just smiled.

"Harry and I are real," Draco went on to explain. "None of the politics Father talks about. Because, really, I'm not endearing myself to many by doing this. He was supposed to have a fairytale life with the female Weasley."

"But you wanted him."

Draco cocked his head to one side at her matter-of fact tone.

"My parents, Lucius parents, they all wanted Lucius to marry Bellatrix. I think they had a bet on which would win out in the offspring--the dark coloring of the Blacks or the fairness of the Malfoys. Since I was considered a changeling, Lucius marrying me wouldn't prove anything. But Lucius wanted me and that was the end of that."

"What about you, Mother? What did you want?"

"You, darling. I had a touch of Sight once in Divinations. I saw you and fell in love. I saw Lucius face in you, so I had no objections to our marriage."

"I hope I haven't been too much of a disappointment?"

Narcissa folded her arms around him. "Not even the least bit of a disappointment."

"I, Draco Malfoy, in the midst of this gathering, declare my desire to bond with Harry Potter. He is my balance, my core, my smile every morning. I welcome the chance to join with him, become one with him."

"I, Harry Potter, in the midst of this gathering, declare my desire to bond with Draco Malfoy. He is my freedom, my adventure, my prayer at night. I welcome the chance to join with him, become one with him."

The chalice before them exploded and the magic and blood held within it rained down on both of them, soaking into their clothes, their skins, their souls. What had individually been shed into the cup, now became part of them both. They were bonded, sealed in the most ancient of rituals.

When they kissed, neither of them saw the rainbow that arced above them.

* * *

**7. Absence makes the heart grow fonder**

* * *

"I'm not going."

"Don't be silly, Harry. You want to be a _junior_ Auror forever?"

"You need me."

"Men have been getting pregnant for decades."

"Yeah, and before they get pregnant they go through six months of potions, spells, and exercises to prepare their bodies for the experience. You didn't get any of that."

"The healer said I was fine."

"He said you had to take it easy and have a check up once a week."

"And I'll keep the appointments. I'm not going to do anything that might harm the baby, Potter."

"I want you to fire talk to your mother and ask her to stay with you for the two weeks I'm gone."

"What!"

"For me, Draco. Please, do it for me."

The conversation with Narcissa was short and sweet: she'd be ready to come over in fifteen minutes.

"You shit," Draco said as he turned away from the fire.

"What?"

"You'd already talked to my mother."

Harry reddened, then stuck his chin out defiantly. "How did you know?"

"My mother can't get ready in fifteen minutes to go out to the south garden and pick roses, much less prepare for a two-week stay. What is it, Harry? Don't you trust me?"

Harry dropped his head. "It's not about you, Draco. It's about me. And losing the people who mean the most to me. I can't--I can't lose you, Malfoy. Please."

Draco nodded. "Mother had some ideas about the nursery. Something tasteful, but not outrageous. I mean, everyone already knows we're gay--no use in advertising."

Harry's laugh sounded like a sob.

Draco pretended not to notice.

"Are you stalking me, Granger-Weasley?"

"Not quite," Hermione answered. She fell into step beside Draco, and they walked down the busy halls of the Ministry. "Harry said you had a Healer's appointment today."

"And he sent you to make sure I went."

"Actually, no." He saw out of the corner of his eye that she was blushing. "I have an appointment, too. I think I may be--there's a chance I might be pregnant, too. Ron doesn't know and neither does his family. In case I'm not--pregnant, that is. They'd all be terribly disappointed."

"Why? You haven't been married all that long."

She shrugged. "My mum had trouble getting pregnant with me. There's a possibility I might have the same problem. I should've told Ron about it before we got married. He expects to have a large family like his own."

They got into an empty lift. "You do realize to whom you're confessing, yes?"

She nodded. "Tells you how nervous I am about this."

Draco couldn't Apparate and Granger-Weasley wasn't going to risk it, so they walked the short distance to the Healers' Building. She talked about random things, and he didn't interrupt. Quite civil of him, actually.

When he came out of the office with a clean bill of health, he looked around but didn't see her. Going up to the woman at the desk, he inquired about Madam Granger-Weasley and found out she was still in with her Healer. He thought about leaving, but curiosity and the knowledge that Harry would want him to wait, had him sitting in a chair reading a discarded copy of the _Daily Prophet_.

She was fairly giddy when she came from the office, and he knew the news was good. He stood by silently while she set up future appointments, then escorted her to a celebratory lunch where she gushed about their two children going off to Hogwarts together and how she couldn't wait for Ron to come back home because there was no way she was telling him by owl or a firecall.

It was only as he was settling back into his office that he realized why he'd enjoyed the afternoon so much. For so many years, Granger had equaled Potter in his mind. She wasn't Harry, thank Merlin and the gods of Magic, but she was there in so many memories.

He called and said she was treating him to lunch tomorrow.

She agreed.

"Harry?" He squinted in the darkness. "Harry, you're not supposed to be back until tomorrow." He waved his wand and candles lit faintly on the far wall.

"Training's over. Just talking left. Ron and me slipped out early. Miss me, Malfoy?"

"You wish, Harry. You wish."

* * *

**8. Mind over matter**

* * *

"Don't dawdle, Potter," Draco called to the figure straggling behind him. "There are things to do. First, this bed must simply go. It's fine for sleeping and occasional shagging, but for four months--in a word, no. And I want the bed angled toward the window. Oh, and what is this telly thing the Muggles talk about? Do I want one of them? Will it sufficiently amuse me?"

Harry dragged into the room and leaned against the doorframe. "We need to talk about this, Malfoy."

"No, we really don't. We Malfoys get what we want--just ask my mother. And I want this baby. So, if I have to spend four months in bed to make it happen, then thats exactly what I'm going to do. Now, you can stand there and bitch and moan about it, or you can go fetch me a telly. One of those big ones like the half-blood girls at the Office talk about. And a romance novel. With a sexy guy on the cover. They're always hiding them from me, and I want to know why."

"The Healer said--"

"The Healer is not having this baby, I am. If you don't believe me, get out and come back in four months. Otherwise, get a painter in here. Merlin, the color clashes with daylight, don't you think?"

Harry sighed and turned big, shiny eyes to him, magnified by the lenses he refused to part with. "What color samples should I get?"

"Greens," Draco said firmly. "I'm partial to green."

"Harry Potter, I love you like I've never loved anyone, but get the fuck away from me!"

"Calm down, Draco," Harry said in a soothing, placating tone.

"I'll calm down as soon as you and Weasley Portkey out of here and to the Quidditch World Cup! I'll be fine here. My parents are across the hall. Granger-Weasley is two doors down, although I think it was a bit much asking her to stay. It's not like we sit around and compare stretch marks or anything." Which they did during the afternoon teas they had everyday since Draco was confined to bed. But Harry wasn't to know that, nor about the Muggle cream which Granger-Weasley had smuggled to him.

"You'll keep your mobile on?"

Granger-Weasley had figured out how to make the Muggle technology work and the damn thing was placed beside his bed by Harry every morning. Merlin knew how Harry ever got any Auror work done. "It's only on if you call twice a day. Any more than that and I'm turning it off. Now, go have fun. Next Cup, you'll be dragging along a high-maintenance husband and a squirmy almost four-year-old. It won't be pretty, trust me."

Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "I'll go, but it's under protest."

Draco snorted. "Like that's a big secret. Now, give me a kiss and be on your way. Granger-Weasley and I have diabolical plans to implement and baby names to gather." The kiss was earnest, but reluctantly given. He waved goodbye, but didn't relax until Granger-Weasley came to report both of their spouses had left.

"Finally," he said, patting his blanket. "Now, what's this about the Colonies having satellite telly and how can we hack into it?"

* * *

**9. He looks just like his father**

* * *

"You did it, Draco," the Healer said.

"Of course I did."

"It truly is amazing. We've never had a successful birth from an accidental male pregnancy."

"You've never had a Malfoy attempt it before," Draco replied matter-of-factly. Was the man being so plebian as to compare a Malfoy to an ordinary Wizard? He squeezed Harry's hand and accepted the kiss that landed on his forehead. "So, it's time then?"

"It's time."

There was a long period of complex magic--Draco wasn't sure of the details thanks to the series of potions he'd had to take. Then came a very demanding shrill cry, followed by a bundle being placed in Harry's arms. As Draco struggled to keep his eyes open, Harry knelt beside him with the baby. "It's a boy, Draco. We have a son. And he's perfect."

"Of course he is," Draco whispered. "By the way, before I drift off, his name is Kevin."

"Kevin?"

"Gaelic for 'beautiful at birth.'"

"Kevin," Harry repeated with awe.

"Take him to my father. He needs to bestow the family blessing upon him within the first hour of birth.

"I will. Malfoy, Draco...thank you."

Draco nodded, hearing everything Harry couldn't say. But, hell, he knew he'd done good. No need to spell it out. Besides, Harry had two Malfoys in his life now; he'd learn soon enough that Malfoys were capable of anything, and by that, he meant _everything_.

He fell asleep with a sly grin adorning his face.

"He's going to have your eyes. But at least he has my hair, thanks be to all that's sacred."

"He's going to be all pointy, like you were when we first met."

"I've never been pointy. Take that back, Potter! And if those gorgeous green eyes end up being as bad as yours, he's definitely wearing high-fashion glasses until he's old enough to decide whether he wants the ocular spell performed."

"He cackles like you do."

"It's called laughing, and he's too young to do it yet."

"Right... and he can't roll his eyes at me yet either?"

"You're paranoid."

"I think he gave Ron the finger yesterday."

Draco, sort of, no really, cackled.

"By the way," Harry added with a frown, "why are there American programmes on our telly?"

* * *

**10. Happily ever after**

* * *

"Are you sniffing, Potter?"

"Just allergies."

"Pull the other one."

Harry leaned against Draco. "It's just...being back here at Platform nine and three-quarters. God, that first time was one hell of a shock, you know?"

"No, I don't know, because most of us didn't have the demented upbringing you had. Kevin's going to be okay, Harry. He knows he's a wizard and that it's good to be a wizard and have magic. He's not in his cousin's oversized hand-me-downs and his glasses are not broken. More importantly, he doesn't have some damn prophecy hanging over his head. Thanks to us, he's your typical eleven-year-old wizard--except for the, you know, being a Malfoy and all."

Harry rolled his eyes, then he smiled. "Thanks to us, huh?"

"Yes. We're excellent parents, Harry."

"Of course, we're excellent. After all, one of us _is_ a Malfoy."

"Are you mocking me, Potter?"

"Yes, dear."

"It's a good thing our other children aren't here to hear you mocking their favorite father. And wave to your son, Potter. He's going to flap away if you don't." Kevin stood at a window waving madly as the Hogwarts Express departed. Freddie Granger-Weasley was beside him, doing the same thing.

"You think they'll get sorted together?" Harry asked worriedly.

"Not a chance. But it's okay. They've made--plans."

"Plans?"

Draco could see the alarms going off in Harry's head and laughed. "They've decided that House loyalty only extends to Quidditch. They've been best friends since birth, Harry. It'd take more than a castle of other students to separate them now." And Merlin help those who try, he added silently before turning to the couple next to them. "Well, one down, eight thousand to go, eh, Granger-Weasley?"

"I love you, too, Draco," Granger-Weasley sniffed.

"Egads! You haven't knocked her up again, have you, Weasley?" Draco asked, horrified by his red-eyed friend, who was notorious for emotional pregnancies.

Weasley looked at his wife, who merely shrugged. "Guess we'll know in a bit," he answered. "Always room in the house for one more."

"Well, in that case--" Draco began.

"Draco, we're not giving Kaitie away because she played in the toilet with your wand. She was pretending it was a cauldron," Harry explained for the one million, two thousand and thirty-fifth time. Kaitlyn was already showing her keen mind. A Ravenclaw if ever there was one. "You're the one who gave her the beginners potions kit."

"Well, what about--"

"And not Kenny either. Yes, you're probably right--if anyone's a born Gryffindor, our Kenneth is. But that's not his fault."

"Well, what about--"

"Who? We don't have any--No. I'm not moving in with Ron and Hermione either. Give it up, you prat. You have a family and there's no getting rid of us."

Draco held out his hand to his bondmate. "Promise?"

Harry nodded, took his hand, and kissed his knuckles.

"It's not like you'd let Hermione and me raise a Malfoy, Malfoy," Ron pointed out.

"What a keen observation, Weasley. Granger-Weasley must be rubbing off on you--intellectually, that is, not...eww." Draco shuddered.

"You know, you called me Hermione once," Hermione said.

"I did not!" Draco huffed. "When?"

"When Harry went into labor with Kaitie. 'Hermione, help!' you yelled into the fireplace. I recall it quite clearly."

"Pshaw," Draco said eloquently. "You were mere hours from giving birth yourself. A mere aural delusion, that's all. I forgive you for it."

"How magnanimous."

Draco linked his arm with Harry's. "I think so. Now, I think it's time we got back to our combined hellions before they destroy my house-elf or the entire countryside. I have enough Important Repairs to do at work."

"Speaking of work, we had a memo the other day from the International Muggle Liaison Office. Said a Hollywood studio received a complaint about the cancellation of a television show."

"Yes, I heard the Muggles can be very prolific when it comes to things like that," Draco replied, checking his nails and smiling at their perfection.

"The letter manifested a tongue that stuck out at them. Then it farted."

Draco coughed, disengaged his arm from Harry's, and moved over close to Hermione. The pair then surged ahead of their partners, giggling mysteriously.

Harry sighed. "Children learn from their parents, you know. When we get a call about our boys at Hogwarts, the two of you will be the ones Flooing to the Headmistress's Office," he warned, getting a nod from Weasley.

"Of course we will," the two voices called out in unison.

"Um," Harry began cautiously. "Maybe you should let me and Ron handle that, yeah? Draco? Hermione?"

Draco looked back and laughed. Harry looked ahead and laughed. This was what life was supposed to be--messy, unpredictable, and overwhelmingly good.


End file.
